The Break Up.

The Break Up.

Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) is a personality disorder, characterized by exaggerated feelings of self-importance, an excessive need for admiration, and a lack of empathy for others.[1] People with the disorder often come across as arrogant, callous, and envious, and tend to be exploitative in their interpersonal relationships. They can be excessively preoccupied with personal adequacy, power, prestige and vanity.

I’ve always used this blog as a sort of journal and a way to express how I feel, today is no different…

I remember the first time you left, it was Anzac Day.

I was 6.

I don’t remember much. Just that mum told us you had gone. But I was sure you’d come back because you hadn’t even said goodbye.

You didn’t.

I remember moving to Mudgee and sharing a bed with Mel for months. I didn’t really understand what was going on. Just that we would see you on the weekends now.

Every second weekend quickly turned into once a month.

When we met your new girlfriend for the first time we acted out so bad.

Your new girlfriend cooked dinner, Mel quickly became a vegetarian and Laura and I probably had a fight for the sake of it.

I remember visiting you and Susan and the more time we spent with her, I really liked her. But I felt so guilty like I was betraying mum.

These are no feelings a 6 year old should have to deal with. I didn’t realise at the time.

You were my dad and you were my hero.

As time went on I became more and more frustrated with you, you were only seeing us about once a month. But you’d never call until the night before you’d pick us up.

So many times I cried wondering what I did for you to not want much to do with us. I also blamed Susan.

You floated in and out of our lives and by the time I’d hit my 20’s I had accepted the fact that you were more of a “fun uncle” than a father.

But I still had you up on that undeserved pedastool.

You’d breeze in at family gatherings and gloat about your 5 beautiful daughters and what wonderful adults your 3 grown daughters had become.

Never once did you thank mum for the amazing job she had done. You claimed it as your own.

You were never there to pick up the pieces. Mum was there. Every. Single. Time.

By the time I had reached my mid 20’s, and several meltdowns later I had realised you weren’t really the person I’d dreamt you up to be.

But I still forgave you.

When you called to say you were leaving Susan I was shocked. I was sad for the girls…

… and I had my suspicions.

Sure enough, in no time you had a new girlfriend.

I couldn’t believe you’d done it again.

Surely you had learnt from us.

No. You decided to break another 6 year olds heart. This time my little sister Lucy’s. Not to mention Clare’s.

Of all the little girls, these two deserve stability more than most.

I was done with you.

Yet somehow, someway I managed to forgive you again.

When you called to tell me you and Susan were back together after 18 months apart. I was shocked. I was worried for Susan and the girls…

… and I had my suspicions.

Sure enough, not even 5 months later. You were at it again.

But this time you didn’t even call.

You decided this week. Of ALL weeks. Right after Mel lost her second baby girl too soon.

This would be the best time to decide to leave susan and the girls AGAIN. For another woman. AGAIN.

And today, today is Susan’s birthday.

You sure can pick your timing.

I never understood how people could cut family members off. They’re family, I thought.

But now I can.

If you were any other person I would’ve cut you off years ago. I’d never accept your behaviour towards me or the rest of our family.

Now I have to say no more.

Because no amount of love and forgiveness has ever shown you what acceptable behaviour is. You’ve never learnt to truly love and respect us.